


End of an Empire

by EnemyJoestar



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Intimacy, M/M, Mild Gore, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnemyJoestar/pseuds/EnemyJoestar
Summary: Kain has made his decision to deny the Pillar of Balance its Scion, and he is not content to live out the rest of his life quietly. He wants the empire he feels he deserves, but he must first assemble himself an army, and a powerful circle of subordinates at his side. The problem is, despite having chosen his targets, he has no idea how to turn them.His first experience is more intense than he could have ever imagined, and it had everlasting effects on his firstborn. Countless years later, Raziel has forgotten the experience, but after some antagonism from his brothers, he discovers that his body hasn't.
Relationships: Kain/Raziel (Legacy of Kain)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	End of an Empire

**Author's Note:**

> Only characters with speaking lines are tagged. 
> 
> For over 18 years I told myself I would never write fan-fiction for this series, but replaying it for the...4th/5th+?? time, I finally broke on Defiance. I always nearly broke on Defiance. 
> 
> It's the damn intensity of their physical interactions in that game, and Raziel's ever twisting, tormented views on Kain. I just wanted to try and flesh that out a little more; explore the foundation their relationship was built on. What could Kain have done that made his betrayal all the more painful to Raziel? What could have stayed Raziel's hand from killing Kain in SR2 other than his petulant "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" attitude. 
> 
> I'm hyping this up too much. It's short and a little horny depending on what you're into. This isn't exactly written as sexual relationship but I mean...it's on some paper thin ice.

Kain had not chosen his destiny; that luxury had been given, or rather taken, by another. To be killed in such a useless, brutal manner; a knife in the back, a blade to the throat.

It was shameful.

His useless life had been put to an end without his consent, only to be renewed; restored to him in a manner he could never imagine. A disgusting unlife that pulsed a new desire through his lukewarm corpse. He craved revenge, unbeknownst to him that even this desire was predestined.

It was maddening.

In the grand scheme of things, the murder of the thugs and bandits was a petty victory that ended too soon; was gratified too quickly. Even after he had sated his taste for vengeance, the desire for it remained.

And despite the cravings of his soul, he found himself overwhelmed with the cravings of his body. A thirst, so vile and repulsive, plagued him too desperately.

It made him uncontrollably restless.

Was this to be his eternal fate? To be a despised creature of the night, slipping into the homes of the unsuspecting to drain them of their thick, rich blood? To feel the struggling pulse of a panicked, ruptured vein as he revelled in the taste of a dying, pointless human being?

He knew the answer. He knew it as he let himself be led to purge the pillars of their guardians; believing that his disappointing, lukewarm taste of vengeance could be fulfilled with their deaths.

A mistake, but one he would not hesitate to make again.

Once the deed was done he was met with a bitter ultimatum; sacrifice himself for the greater good, or live on as a brutal mockery of natural life; condemning all of Nosgoth to corruption and decay.

Perhaps there was too little hesitation as he chose to go on, damning the world that had treated him so cruelly. He deserved better, assuredly so, having been slain in such a pathetic matter, only to be brought back to life with the sole purpose of fulfilling a task that would damn him to die once again.

He had only just begun adjusting to his curse.

He deserved much better; Ariel be damned. Her lies would not force him to have an altruistic change of heart.

He chose life, unnatural as it was.

In his new beginning, Kain took up residence in Uschtenheim and dreamt of an empire; a world under his rule, plagued no longer by the overabundance of humans; instead their numbers culled to a desirable level, penned in where he pleased like cattle waiting for slaughter.

It became apparent to him that he would accomplish nothing without an army behind him; without subservient, like minded others by his side. He devised a plan, tenuous as it was, and set his heart on turning the most venerable heroes he could think of; the revered martyrs of Malek and the Sarafan.

The murderers of Janos Audron.

Of course, he wanted to be prepared. He wanted council, but he only knew one place to get it, and he was none too happy to seek out the man who had the answers. Under normal circumstances, he would have found the trek to the mansion tiring and bothersome, but he doubted his circumstances would ever revert to normalcy.

Upon arrival, Kain found the mansion's entrance unguarded and unlocked; a testament to the cockiness of its master. He entered just as casually as he had in the past, as if he had every right to barge in unannounced, and calmly listened to the dampened steps of his heavy boots on the ornate carpet beneath him.

Humans clad in nothing but rags were chained to the walls, and they rattled their bruised writs against their bonds as Kain continued through the lavish hallways; each begging for freedom he would not grant. They were beneath him; nothing but vessels for his sustenance.

Kain came upon the double doors to the library he often found Vorador and swung them open with perhaps too much force, causing them to swing too wide and slam against the wall.

As he suspected, Vorador was perusing one of his many bookshelves, looking perhaps for a book he had the patience to read, and he looked up unbothered to the commotion that had broken the library's silence. He pushed the half removed tome back onto the shelf and stood up tall to face Kain.

“You find yourself here too often for someone who doesn't enjoy my company.” he said, an underlying smugness barely concealed in his tone. “Would I be wrong to assume you wish something of me?” He walked leisurely to the centre of the upper floor, and crossed his arms as he looked down on Kain from the banister separating them.

“As a matter of fact I do.” Kain started as he entered the room proper, stopping at a plush chair in the middle.

Vorador chuckled to himself as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Do tell, fledgling.” he prompted. “I've time enough to humour you.”

Kain struggled in vain to keep his brow from furrowing, to which Vorador smirked.

“I wish to know, in detail, of the death of Janos Audron.” he stated rather than asked. He glowered at the ancient vampire as Vorador pursed his lips and placed a hand to his chin.

“Janos Audron.” Vorador said slowly, as if savouring the name. “Such a waste, his death. Unwarranted at best, vindictive at worst.”

“I'm not here to watch you reminisce, Vorador.” Kain said impatiently as he watched his elder lose himself in thought. “Clearly you have answers, and clearly, I want them. Tell his tale, Vorador. Tell me of Janos.”

Vorador glanced at Kain as a frown graced his lips.

“Do not speak his name as such, Kain. You've not earned the right to speak of him so casually.”

Kain chuckled quietly to himself as he shook his head.

“To think you'd have the gall to lecture me on casualty while you so often indulge in your hedonism.” he said through a smirk. Vorador rose an eyebrow as he carefully observed Kain.

“You are much too young to question my ways, Kain.” he stated, lowering his hand as he headed to the set of winding stairs beside him. He placed his hand on the banister to guide himself; each step firm and confident as he descended.

Kain wouldn't dare admit to himself that he grew intimidated as the distance slowly closed between them.

“I do enjoy your quips from time to time, however, I would enjoy putting you in your place.” Vorador finished.

“Enough of this.” Kain growled; his grip tightening on his sword.

Vorador stopped at the bottom of the stairs and crossed his arms.

“Very well. I'll tell you of Janos.” he paused, a brief look of sorrow flashing across his face as his eyes grew cold and distant.

“Janos lived near Uschtenheim, which I suspect you already knew, and his presence startled the humans. Whether or not he preyed upon them I am uncertain, but rumours of brutality spread among the townsfolk, and in time the Sarafan decided that Janos was an evil that needed to be purged.”

“I'd imagine he was not so easy to defeat.” Kain stated, voicing his thoughts aloud. Vorador shook his head.

“Who's to say; history is written by the victors, after all. If he put up a fight, the Sarafan would keep no record of it.” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “But what's done is done. Regardless of how the encounter played out, Janos Audron is dead.”

“And what of the Sarafan who slayed him?” Kain asked, disregarding the melancholy the tale brought upon them, “What happened to them?”

“Slaughtered shortly afterwards in their own keep, so I've heard.” Vorador answered. He paused briefly; narrowing his eyes at Kain as he stared at him intently.

“What are you planning, Kain?”

“That's none of your business.” Kain replied sternly. A smirk formed on Vorador's lips as he absently paced across the room.

“Perhaps not, though perhaps you'd like it to be.” he goaded. “You've another question of me, I assume. A dire one at that.”

Kain told himself he was above experiencing anxious flutters in his chest, and he stared at Vorador coldly as he tried to will them away.

“Perhaps I do.” he half admitted, though he didn't have the courage to state his question aloud.

“Weakness is unbecoming of you, dear Kain.” Vorador began, continuing to pace along the library floor. “Which is why you seek...stable obedience, am I correct?”

“If you know what I wish to ask, why tease me like one of your human playthings?” Kain bit back. Vorador widened his eyes in mock surprise as he turned to face Kain.

“Oh I would never.” he assured insincerely. “But I do enjoy making you fledglings squirm.”

There was a tense silence between them as Kain held back a biting remark.

“You want to know how to turn others.” Vorador finally addressed, watching as Kain grew nervous. The slight tensing of the shoulders and sudden rigidness of his body would have gone unnoticed had Vorador not been observing him so carefully.

“Have you not done so already?” he asked. Kain frowned.

“There's nothing of worth in Uschtenheim, and I suspect the same is true of most, if not all of Nosgoth.” he explained, swallowing his pride just enough to start the dialog he was too ashamed to open with. Vorador nodded his head as he thought the matter over.

“I'm afraid it's not a uniform procedure; each vampire capable of bestowing the gift has a method unique to them and them alone.” he explained.

“And how do I know if I'm capable of sharing the gift?” Kain asked, his expression wary; anxious for Vorador to elaborate.

“Though you won't tell me the exact nature of your resurrection, I can tell just from looking at you that you are powerful.” Vorador continued, running his gaze up and down Kain's body. “There's a strength in you that can only come from a pure vampire; and with this, you can rest assured that you will have your fledglings.”

“And how do I come about discovering my method of turning others, if it's so varied between our kind?” Kain asked, abandoning more of his pride as he grew more impatient.

“Your body will guide you, just as it guided you to feed.” Vorador answered, still scrutinizing Kain as he closed the distance between them. “Though I think it a strange desire to sire Sarafan martyrs.”

Kain was not surprised that Vorador had pieced his plan together.

“Is it strange to conquer our enemy and force them into subservience?” Kain retorted, self assured in his decision. “Bend them to my will? Have them at my beck and call?”

Vorador snorted.

“How confident you are in your decision, despite your inexperience.” he reached out to place a clawed hand on Kain's shoulder, and gripped hard.

It was a grip that would have crushed human bone, but Kain did not flinch.

“You're growing stronger much quicker than I expected.” Vorador said more to himself than to Kain, gazing with interest at the man's shoulder. “I suspect you'll start to evolve soon. You must be relieved, to be so close to losing this human facade.”

Kain had nothing to say. He cared not what was to become of his appearance.

“Now go. I can see you grow tired of me, and I've a gnawing hunger I must attend to.”

\--

The Sarafan keep and subsequently, the Sarafan tomb, lay on the southern bank of the Great Lake, fed by rivers that flowed through Ziegsturhl: the place of Kain's assassination. He had given the place no mind whilst he lived, but now, finding himself travelling through the wretched town, he felt disdain and revulsion.

Not at his demise, but at his former, human life. He was so much more as he was; a creature of power filled with more advanced, civilized desires. Kain deemed himself worthy of the change, and judging by the state of Vorador, he knew there was more to come.

The sky grew grey and cloudy, and the scent of rain filled Kain's nose. He worried about an oncoming storm, and what the rain would do to his skin. He found that his skin was growing more resistant to the weather as time passed by, though it was not yet strong enough to withstand the storm that brewed above him, if ever it would be.

If nothing else, the canopy of the forest would shield him from the worst of it.

Not long after the passing of Ziegsturhl and the trek through the forest, Kain came upon the tomb of the Sarafan; neglected and abandoned despite the legends sleeping eternally within.

It seemed that even they could be forgotten with time.

Kain's heart beat almost painfully in his chest, the thing feeling oddly out of place in his body, and he drew a deep breath as he breached the entrance of the tomb.

He felt a giddy excitement, but a faint, cold dread was seeping through his spine and into his ill fitting heart. Even so, he descended.

The inner chamber was circular, with ancient, crumbling murals adorning the walls above stone sarcophagi; names carved deeply into their sides to denote the corpses within them.

One stood out to him, and how could it not, raised higher than the others with a time worn banner draped across it. The name that was etched into its side was covered in flakes of gold; the embellishment too old and dry to cling to the stone after what could have been a millennia of neglect.

_Raziel._

Pushing the lid off the sarcophagus was child's play, and it cracked into three pieces before collapsing in on itself as it struck the ground. Kain looked down on the corpse and was filled with an unfamiliar craving.

Kain never thought the dried and shrivelled husk of a fallen, ancient adversary would elicit such a feeling of want in him; one so strong that his body felt restless in its grasp.

In the moment, it was easy to interpret it as the excitement of creating his firstborn; establishing dominance over someone who would forever revel in Kain's presence.

Kain delicately slipped his arms under Raziel's body and hoisted him up with too much ease. He walked to the middle of the tomb, and gently placed the Sarafan's corpse on the stone floor; its surface covered in dirt that hadn't been disturbed in a millennia.

Something in Kain wanted this to be perfect.

He stared down at the corpse beneath him and was filled with a deep, overwhelming desire, and he knew it to be what he was waiting for; his body guiding him to claim the man beneath him.

He positioned himself above Raziel, and slipped a hand under his decaying skull to tilt it backwards; exposing his neck, still inexplicably wrapped in tender flesh after years of rot, as if it had been waiting for Kain's bite.

Kain lowered himself even closer to the noble, emaciated corpse; and with shuddering, shallow breath leaned in to press his teeth against its throat. His fangs slid in as the Sarafan's neck yielded completely to his mouth, almost delicate in its submission.

Raziel groaned beneath him, and the sound of his voice shot through Kain's body to settle in places he had forgotton not to neglect.

He was almost disturbed by how intimate it felt having the warmth of life bloom against his lips, and the feeling only grew stronger as his firstborn's throat spasmed from weak cries that tried to escape his body.

Raziel's throat went slack again as Kain coaxed it to relax against fangs that shifted deeper into unimaginably soft, tender flesh.

A shudder ran up Raziel's spine as a faint, pathetic mewl left his body, and Kain knew it was time to pull away, reluctant as he was to do so.

Rising to his feet, Kain watched as the Sarafan's body curled in on itself. Muscle began to knit over hardening bone, and Raziel panted as his organs hydrated themselves; fluttering and spasming from within his exposed ribcage. He rolled onto his back with eyes closed and brow knit as his skin, pale as death, formed over his body. His lips were a mottled blue; still holding on to the cold, eternal kiss of death.

An eternalness now claimed by Kain.

Kain felt a possessiveness seize him as Raziel's lips parted to reveal sleek, delicate fangs.

Raziel let out a horrified scream as his body came to realize that it had been born anew.

Kain knelt down beside him.

“Come child, breath deeply.” he said softly, placing a hand on Raziel's chest. He felt it rise and fall as his firstborn began to calm beneath his touch.

“What is this place?” he asked weakly as he furrowed his brow, waiting for the fog to clear his mind and the blinding pain of rebirth to subside. “I've no memory of it.”

“It matters not, Raziel; your life begins now, as my right hand. Where we are is inconsequential.” Kain soothed. Raziel's breath hitched slightly as he tried to adjust to the tenderness of his lungs.

“Raziel...” He said listlessly as he looked up at Kain. “Yes...I'll be Raziel, if you wish it.”

The chill of the tomb seeped deep into their bones as the scent of rain flowed down into the chamber, and in the quiet between them they could hear the beginnings of a downpour.

Raziel breathed the intrusive, humid air in deeply, and sighed silently as it soothed the dryness within him.

Kain kept his hand on his firstborn's bare chest; allowing himself to revel in the pulsing of a heart that beat solely for him as Raziel continued to adjust to life.

They could hear the rain cascading over the tomb as it grew heavy and brutal; the storm finally letting itself loose upon the forest.

“How do you feel?” Kain asked as he absently curled his fingers on Raziel's chest. Raziel narrowed his eyes as he concentrated on his body; mouth twitching slightly as soft aches made themselves known to him.

“Sore, and...” he began quietly, pausing as he struggled to find the words to describe the feeling within him. “I...I need...I need, sire.”

Raziel's expression grew desperate as he plead for something he didn't know he needed, but Kain understood what it was he craved. Raziel reached up to weakly graze Kain's armour with his fingertips.

Kain nearly cursed at himself for not having a meal ready for his firstborn; that he hadn't the foresight that the rain would trap them in the tomb together, away from the humans.

He pulled his hand away from Raziel, and started to remove his pauldrons. He placed them aside, and began to unbuckle his chest piece; starting with the straps along his ribs.

Raziel watched him disrobe as if it was a privilege; one granted to someone who found themselves unworthy, but desperate for the sight.

Kain unlaced the top of his tunic; loosening it enough to slide off his shoulders and settle just beneath them.

Kain was about to do something that, so far as he knew, was unheard of.

He leaned in close to slip an arm around the small of Raziel's back, lifted him off the ground and guided him up into his lap as he tilted his own head to bare his neck.

“Drink, Raziel.” he urged. “You have my permission.”

Raziel's mouth parted as he hesitantly stared at the exposed skin, and let his eyes flutter shut as he leaned in; tentatively pressing his lips against Kain's neck. He parted them further, dragging them softly along a vein before gently pressing his teeth against the warm flesh protecting it. Kain tried not to gasp as Raziel took his time piercing his skin to get at his jugular, and tried even harder not to sigh as he began lapping languidly at the wound.

Raziel's quiet, wet whimpers and sloppy swallowing broke the tomb's oppressive silence; each weak and desperate whine sending a thrill through Kain's body. It felt wrong to be fed from, but the way Raziel clung to him as he tried to press himself even closer against Kain kept him from pulling away.

Kain found himself holding Raziel steady as he started gently gnawing at the wound; his teeth teasing and bruising the flesh around it until he had widened it enough to lick his way deeper inside. Kain could feel his blood spill a bit more freely, flowing down his neck and chest to sop into the tunic bunched up just above his abdomen.

Had he been human, Kain would be dying.

Raziel was yet to show signs of stopping, to which Kain was secretly glad for; finding himself unwilling to sever their bond; to stop the mewling against his throat.

He was beginning to find it ironic that he had judged Vorador so harshly for his constant overindulgence.

Kain let out an airy sigh as Raziel gripped him firmly and started kissing, sucking and moaning into him, likely blood drunk and unaware of his actions.

It felt good, having something ravenous and needy clinging to him as if its life depended on it.

And it did.

Kain had to pull Raziel away when he started getting greedy; panting and choking on his blood as he tried to coax too much of it out of the wound. Kain's threaded his fingers through Raziel's head and tilted it backwards, away from his neck, and looked him over.

His lips were stained red with blood, with some dribbling down his chin to drip onto his chest. Kain reached out with his free hand and swiped his thumb over Raziel's chin.

“Are you sated?” Kain asked once Raziel's eyes focused and his breathing slowed. “Have you the taste for blood you need to survive?”

Raziel stared at him reverently.

“Yes, it's...rich.” he answered breathlessly, mind still in a fog. “It, my thirst, I...I want it again.”

Kain ran his thumb over Raziel's lips, pausing to let him lick his blood off it.

“I promise you will feed again.” he assured.

Kain allowed himself a moment to let his torn neck knit itself together, and he adjusted his tunic before once again donning his armour. Raziel sat on the ground, his legs turned sideways and tucked beneath him as he watched Kain push the lid off another sarcophagus with ease.

Kain was not so thorough in raising the other Sarafan, and with some experimentation found that one quick bite on the throat's centre was enough to start the process. He quickly grew tired of the monotony he felt bringing them back to life; especially after experiencing the intimate creation of his firstborn.

In his haste he failed to sink his teeth deep enough into Melchiah, and noticed that he was not as well formed as the others; the smell of decay still clinging to his body.

Kain had his children stand in front of their sarcophagi as he stood in the centre of their tomb.

“I am Kain, and you will know me as your sire; the instrument of your resurrection.” He began. “As my children, my generals, you will perpetuate my glory; enforce my will with unwavering devotion.”

He paused to let his instructions set in; grinning to himself as his fledglings stared at him in rapt attention. He cast his gaze over each one of them; asserting dominance with nothing but his confidence.

“But, before you can be of use, you must adjust to your new...urges.”

The Sarafan's eyes widened as they were overcome with curiosity; anxious to adjust to their bodies and fulfill Kain's wishes.

Raziel took note of Kain's near indifference towards his brothers, and when they were led to Ziegsturhl to feed after the storm, he watched from afar; his thirst already slaked.

He felt oddly jealous as he watched Kain viciously tear chunks out of the throats of humans to drain them of blood with practiced ease, but he couldn't tell who it was he envied.

“Join us brother!” Rahab said as he noticed Raziel abstaining from the feast. “Surely you hunger as we do.”

Raziel shook his head.

“I partook before you were raised, so I will leave the feast to you.” he answered calmly. Zephon laughed as he came up behind Rahab.

“Much appreciated.” He said, joining in on the conversation. “Though surely a little overindulgence couldn't hurt. Our birth is cause for celebration, after all.”

Raziel gave his brothers a sly smile.

“I've overindulged enough for all of us, I assure you.” he explained, opting to keep the little details of his first feed to himself. Rahab nodded in respect as Zephon shrugged.

“Suit yourself.” he said in good humour, and rushed off to follow a young man into the woods. Screaming was heard mere seconds later. Rahab pursed his lips as he went over a private thought.

“You're Kain's first.” he stated. Raziel rose a brow.

“I am.” he answered, unbothered by the statement but curious about its meaning. Rahab furrowed his brow as he placed a hand to his chin; looking nowhere in particular as he continued to mull over something.

“Is something the matter?” Raziel prompted. Rahab shook his head.

“No, I'm just trying to learn more about my brothers.” he said, his answer coming off genuine. “I think it'll be important to get to know each other, if we're to form Kain's empire together.”

“We've been conscious for less than a day, Rahab. There is time yet to discover ourselves.” Raziel assured. Rahab smiled timidly.

“You're right. There's no rush at all.”

\--

Kain discovered that it wasn't his bite that turned his brood, but his saliva, and he was relieved to learn that his ability to create more vampires was passed on to his lieutenants, though vampires created by them were much weaker; some more useful as disposable troops than members of his esteemed society. A scratch caused by a claw moistened with their saliva was enough to create a vampire.

They waged their war slowly, taking advantage of their immortality as the humans struggled to keep their spirits up and their armies grand.

Kain was rarely separated from Raziel, who served as his strategist and right hand. All of his brother's plans were brought to him to be approved before being presented to Kain, and after a time, Raziel suspected some of his kin were irritated with the process, and by extension, him.

Zephon's plans were erratic and poorly thought out, as if he wasn't taking the expansion of their empire seriously, and Raziel found himself scolding Zephon over his carelessness more often than praising him for his efforts.

Rahab, more timid and reserved than his brothers, only presented strategies when he sensed their judgment, and they were simple and unremarkable. Raziel realized he was wasting his time trying to humour Rahab's efforts, and placed him in charge of rounding up human survivors to serve as a food source instead.

Dumah had a tendency to disregard the safety of their troops, instead favouring to use them carelessly in brutal, overwhelming assaults on the diminishing strongholds of the humans. Kain, having grown more bold and vicious with the passage of time, was often impressed with Dumah in this regard.

Raziel appreciated Turel's efforts more than the others. He and Dumah spent a great deal of time together, and their personal habits and tendencies had rubbed off on each other over the years, though it seemed Turel benefited the most from their relationship. He was equal parts brutal and cunning, which led to plans that both addressed the possibility of human retaliation and the razing of their resources.

As bad as it was, Raziel tried to prioritize Turel's suggestions over his other brothers.

Melchiah was useless, and his presence grated on Raziel's nerves. His priorities were self directed; too distracted by the accelerated decay of his body to participate in Kain's conquests. Raziel found himself mimicking Melchiah's selfishness when he was around; wrinkling his nose and wishing for the rotting vampire to leave. He'd voice his opinion of his brother aloud, but Kain's desire to use Melchiah's brood as Dumah's disposable troops made him hold his tongue.

This all was, of course, done at the behest of Kain, who trusted his judgment over that of his brothers. It was no secret that Raziel was their sire's favourite son, and Kain made no effort to soothe the wounded pride of his other children.

The day Kain declared the humans defeated was spent in lavish celebration, despite the futility of the proclamation. They had known they would be victorious long before Kain had seized the pillars, and that it was only a matter of time before humans started to willing submit to them.

They had pulled human kings, generals and heroes from their dedicated pens and brought them to Kain's throne room for a celebratory feast. Turel and Dumah savoured a general that had been a particularly annoying thorn in their side years ago; placing him between them as they sat together on a wine red fainting couch, both latched onto opposite sides of his neck. Raziel watched them with mild interest as they drew the feeding out, deciding to work slowly and passionately together to play with the general's mind; the intimacy of tongues and teeth grazing against his skin doing wonders to confuse and terrify him.

Zephon was chatting with Rahab and Melchiah; waving half an arm still attached to the head of a princess around as he intermittently fed and talked with his hands. Melchiah was peeling the skin off of her lower half as he nodded along to Zephon's energetic tale, and Rahab, who was attracted to human custom and civility, drank deeply from a goblet of blood.

Raziel knew he kept a collection somewhere in his chambers.

Raziel, of course, was by Kain's side; using the casual nature of their gathering as an excuse to stand a bit too close to his sire. Kain chuckled as he took notice.

“You don't wish to socialize with your brothers?” he asked, a small grin on his face. Raziel glanced over to look directly at Kain.

“I belong by your side, sire.” he said, trying to keep his expression stoic to hide the giddiness he felt whenever Kain spoke to him.

Kain rose his goblet, a gift from Rahab, to his lips to drain it of the last of its contents.

“Indeed you do.” Kain agreed, an indescribable, yet alluring expression on his face. Raziel's breath hitched in his throat.

“However, I find myself needing some time alone. It would do you well to speak to your brothers outside of the war room, now that we've established our empire.”

Raziel watched Kain as he stood from his throne, and took his empty goblet when it was handed to him.

“I'll...socialize with them, if you wish it.” Raziel said, his chosen words stirring something within him.

They seemed to affect Kain as well, as his eyes grew soft at Raziel's reply. Kain gave no response, deeming the conversation over, and left the throne room; Raziel's gaze at his back.

Raziel turned his attention back to his brothers, and was startled by the sudden closeness of Rahab and Zephon.

“Take a walk with us, will you?” Zephon asked, inviting Raziel to join them. Rahab shot him a disarming smile.

“I suppose I will.” Raziel replied.

The three of them left the chamber, abandoning their other, predisposed brothers, and were led to the crumbling ruins of a nearby cathedral by Zephon; one of the first to fall by their hands. Zephon smoothly scaled a fallen column to sit along its raised side, while Rahab sat on the ground; leaning his back against the cathedral's cold stone. Raziel took a seat on the lowered side of the toppled column, preferring to be closer to the ground.

Zephon passed Raziel the unmarred arm of the princess he had been feasting upon earlier.

“I saved this for you, even though you don't eat much.” he said, shaking the arm until Raziel took it from him.

“...Thank you, Zephon.” he said hesitantly, and he tentatively rose the arm to place it against his lips. He parted them slowly, and gently pierced the dainty wrist with his fangs. He lapped at the ruptured vein; halfheartedly making an effort to keep the blood from dripping down the arm to spill uselessly to the ground. He whined and whimpered quietly as he fed, but found the taste of the blood too disappointing to bother with. He tenderly withdrew his fangs and tossed the arm to the ground.

Zephon and Rahab looked at him with matching expressions; their lips drawn taught and their brows lightly furrowed in concern.

“Not to your liking?” Zephon asked. Raziel ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, getting one last taste of the princess' blood.

“Too thin and diluted.” He answered simply. Zephon grit his teeth and sucked air through them, expressing his discomfort.

“It always is, isn't it?” he said with sympathy, but it was always hard to tell when Zephon was being genuine. He locked eyes with Rahab before turning his attention back to Raziel.

“Rahab has a theory. You know how he is with those, but I think he may be on to something.”

It was rare to see Zephon acting seriously, and it was starting to put Raziel on edge. He looked over to Rahab, who was nervously drumming his fingers in a shallow puddle as he lost himself in thought.

“Do you remember being turned?” he asked, gaze still fixed on the ground in front of him. Raziel furrowed his brow as he thought it over.

“...No, I don't.” he said at length; an unwarranted fear settling into his heart. His hand rose to caress his throat without his consent. Rahab nodded to himself.

“I don't think any of us do, which doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, I'm sure, but I think our awakening shaped our habits, which I find curious.” he continued.

Raziel stared at him intently, eager for him to elaborate.

“You said our first feed specifically, right?” Zephon asked, trying to direct the conversation and darting his eyes towards Raziel. Rahab shifted, turning to face his brothers properly.

There was something about Zephon's stare that made Raziel uneasy.

“Yes, almost exclusively.” Rahab answered, though his eyes were on Raziel. “Which could be very...revealing.”

“What are you getting at, exactly?” Raziel asked, becoming wary under his scrutiny.

“There's something wrong with you.” Zephon interjected. Rahab glowered at his bluntness as offense settled on Raziel's face.

“I beg your pardon?” Raziel said, completely taken aback. Zephon rose an eyebrow.

“It's the same every time, 'Thin and Diluted' ” he started, throwing his fingers up to emphasize his quotation, “and you use that as an excuse to feed alone, or I suspect not at all.”

“What business is it of yours?” Raziel bit back a bit too quickly, exposing his anxiety. Zephon snorted in a dramatic show of mock humour.

“I just find it strange, is all, but that's not what bothers Rahab, is it?” he said, shooting his gaze down at their suspiciously quiet brother.

Rahab looked lost as he was put on the spot by Zephon, who he did not look too pleased with.

“I didn't say it bothered me, you wretch. ” he grumbled, before sighing in agitation. “Raziel...you...please understand this comes from a place of concern, but surely you notice what you do as you feed.”

Raziel furrowed his brow as he went over his feeding habits in his head. He drank slowly and was a little messier than his brothers, but he otherwise found his behaviour completely acceptable.

“No.” he said in irritation, suspecting that he was lead out of the throne room just so the two of them could tease him. “Tell me, Rahab. What issue do you take with my feeding?”

Rahab almost looked too embarrassed to continue.

“You cry and whimper, Raziel, and it sounds like you're in pain.” Rahab explained. Zephon nervously drummed his fingers on the column beside him as he failed to make eye contact with Raziel.

“I hadn't noticed.” Raziel said, though he sounded unsure. “Though is it really all that abnormal? I don't make a habit of watching others feed.”

“If you ask me, I'd say it sounds like you're enjoying yourself too much, if not for how disgusted you are with human blood.” Zephon said. Raziel gave him an irritated glare.

“What would I drink if not human blood?” he asked, disturbed by Zephon's boldness.

“Cattle, I'd suspect.”

“Oh don't be barbaric.” Raziel scoffed, nearly rolling his eyes at the accusation. “Did you invite me out here just to tease me? Am I the only one you intend to antagonize with your theories and suspicions?”

Rahab shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.

“You're the one who corroborates them the most.” he supplied, “but don't think you're the only example I have.”

Rahab ran his fingers through the puddle beside him.

“I think I fed in the rain.” he continued, watching the water ripple as he disturbed it. “Or with water involved, one way or another. It could explain this...immunity I've been developing for centuries.”

Raziel was finding himself more interested in the conversation, now that it wasn't solely about him.

“You suspect anything of our other brothers, then?” he asked.

“Melchiah may have drawn his first mouthful from too old of a corpse, or from some...diseased human; I'm not familiar with their maladies.” Rahab grimaced, “but otherwise no, I haven't noticed anything too unique with our other brothers.”

“Dumah and Turel like to share.” Zephon supplied. Rahab shook his head.

“That doesn't mean anything.”

“But it could.” Zephon insisted. Rahab frowned, narrowing his eyes as Zephon flashed him a cheeky smile.

It was an interesting string of thought to be sure, and Raziel found that he was thinking the matter over himself.

“And what of me, then?” he finally asked, gaining both his brothers' attention. Rahab sucked his teeth as he thought of how to word his explanation.

“I think something went wrong with your feeding, or something went wrong with you; perhaps you sustained a grievous injury before you could have your first taste.” He said, pausing slightly as he tried to decide to add something.

“Or you fed on something abnormal.” Zephon suggested.

“That's absurd.” Rahab chided. “He probably ravaged a...particularly robust human.”

“Desperately ravaged.” Zephon grinned. Raziel felt his mouth twitch.

“Just how invested are you in this imagined scenario?” He asked Zephon, who laughed wickedly.

“I like picturing you as a weak, dying fledgling; struggling to tear out your prey's throat and suckling pathetically on its wounds.” he grinned, making a show of flashing his teeth.

Raziel stood up abruptly; straightening his back and squaring his shoulders as he took a step back.

“That's enough.” he ordered, “I'll not have you entertain this fantasy.” His breath was shallow and his heart hammered away in his chest as something gnawed at the back of his mind. It wasn't fear, but he was having a hard time placing the emotions that were suddenly overwhelming him.

“I meant nothing by it, Raziel.” Rahab said as he stood as well, glaring at Zephon from the corner of his eye. “Though I can only speak for myself.”

Zephon snorted as he slipped off the column to land on the ground beside them.

“I assure you I did.” he started, his expression growing dark around a vicious smile. “I grow weary of seeing you flourish under Kain's favouritism. Picturing your beginnings as a pathetic, whimpering mess is...cathartic.”

“You're playing a dangerous game, Zephon.” Raziel growled, causing Zephon's smile to falter, “One I don't think you're ready to lose.”

Rahab stood nervously beside them; eyes darting between the two.

Zephon backed off a few steps as a bead of sweat ran down from his forehead.

“Perhaps we'll let you attend to other matters,” He said cautiously, “and forget this conversation ever happened.”

“I think that would be wise.” Raziel agreed. Zephon backed away, making to leave, and Rahab nodded at Raziel as he made to follow.

Raziel ruminated as he made his way back to the throne room, hoping to find Kain there. He had a dire need to be with his sire; the interaction with Zephon and Rahab making him yearn for his safe space beside his leader.

He hoped he'd be alone.

Raziel opened the doors without announcing himself, a rare privilege granted only to him, and was pleased to see that his wish had been granted. Turel and Dumah had gone, their mess along with them, and Kain sat casually on his throne. He gave Raziel a pleased smile.

“You look troubled.” he stated as Raziel approached him, “Did you find yourself in unpleasant company?”

Raziel sighed tiredly as he stood before him.

“I find Zephon to be grating, and Rahab spends too much time wrapped up in his own head.” he explained; his shoulders slouching ever so slightly as fatigue seeped into his muscles. “We discussed our...vampiric nature.”

Kain hummed in mild interest.

“Rahab does like to philosophize.” he said, carefully observing his firstborn. “Though I suspect he's said something that upset you?”

Raziel looked away from Kain in embarrassment.

“You can tell me.” Kain said softly.

Raziel felt weak coming to Kain with such a personal problem, but the attention made him feel good.

“He thinks that our bodies remember our first feed, even if our minds don't, and that we've been shaped by the event. That we...I...” he trailed off, losing his nerve to continue as he started to think his griping too petty for Kain.

“Tell me, Raziel.” Kain encouraged.

Raziel's breath hitched slightly.

“...we've adopted things from the experience.” he paused to meet Kain's gaze. “Is it true?”

Kain regarded him curiously.

“I've noticed similarities, yes.” he said as he placed his arm on his armrest and leaned against his hand. “Some of you clung to your habits harder than others.”

“Rahab thinks something went wrong with me.” Raziel added. Kain rose his brow in mild surprise.

“Does he, now?” he asked, equal parts curious and unimpressed. “And why would that be?”

“I feed alone and...sound like I'm in pain.” Raziel explained, pursing his lips and looking away from Kain. “and Zephon thinks I'm too picky, though I don't see how that factors into things.”

Raziel was giving into his bitterness.

Kain was silent for a moment; narrowing his eyes as he thought something over.

“He said your body remembers?” he asked.

“Yes.” Raziel answered simply.

Kain beckoned Raziel towards him.

“Come.”

Raziel obeyed a bit too willingly. Kain stood; smiling deviously as he cast his grand shadow over his firstborn, and watched the look of wonder form on his face. Kain threaded a hand through Raziel's hair to tilt his head back, and placed the other against his throat; pressing his claws in just enough to sting.

“What does it remember, Raziel?” he purred, voice low and seductive. “Is it pain?”

Raziel's mouth parted gently and his eyes glazed over as he was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange sensation.

He sighed involuntarily; his body melting at Kain's touch.

“What is it telling you?” Kain asked, pushing his claws in a little harder.

Raziel lips quivered around a small gasp.

“It...wants.” he whimpered.

“What does it want?” Kain pressed, sliding his hand up to rest on Raziel's cheek as he pressed his thumb against his lips. Raziel fought to keep himself from taking it into his mouth; his body craving blood. Craving something divine.

He couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cling to Kain's chest, and his answer came out a near imperceptible whisper.

“You.”

It wasn't the answer he expected to give.

Kain pierced his thumb on one of Raziel's fangs before dipping it down and wiping it against his tongue. Raziel shivered as he gently licked the wound; finally tasting something that satisfied him.

Kain pulled away.

“It knows it's place.” He commented casually, as if he hadn't just turned Raziel into a weak, needy mess. “Just as it's supposed to.”

Raziel came back to his senses slowly; growing mortified as he realized what he had done.

“I'm sorry, I...don't know what came over me.” he tried to apologize, pulling his arms close to himself as he looked to Kain; awaiting his punishment.

Kain chuckled deeply; the sound rumbling pleasantly in Raziel's chest despite the distance Kain had put between them.

“No apologies, Raziel. You've done nothing wrong.” Kain stated, turning his back on Raziel to leisurely step behind his throne; inspecting the fallen pillars absently. “I suspect as my firstborn, your body knows too well how to submit to me; your bond with me stronger than that of your brothers.”

Kain's explanation soothed Raziel's nerves somewhat, but he still felt a thrill pulsing through his veins, still high off Kain's touch.

The taste of Kain's blood clung to his tongue; the warmth and richness of it somehow nostalgic.

Kain paused his pacing to gaze over at Raziel.

“You've worked very hard these past few centuries. Perhaps it's time for you to get some rest.” he suggested. Raziel stared at him a moment before nodding.

“Yes, I will...if you wish it.” he said. Kain gave him a contented smile.

“I do.”

Kain watched Raziel attempt to leave the throne room with a modicum of composure, and frowned sadly to himself.

He wasn't going to scold Raziel for something that was his fault.

\--

The changes to their bodies left them vulnerable for a time, usually a decade at the shortest, which served to be inconvenient at best. Kain took his transformations in stride, his power lending to the speed in which he changed, but his brood seemed to change in clusters. Raziel was always first, followed by his brothers in an inconsistent order.

Dumah and Turel, curiously enough, always went into stasis at the same time.

Melchiah was always last, and took much longer than his brothers.

Kain grew more prideful at every transformation, and his children began to see him as a god.

Raziel, of course, never questioned Kain in the slightest. Not that his brothers did, but there was none as obedient as him; as willing to please Kain. Everything he did, he did for him.

He had been so excited to show his sire what he had become.

Raziel, who was still adjusting to himself, was the last to arrive at Kain's assembly; one that was held every century to go over the state of the empire and the meanderings of the humans they had let loose as an experiment.

They all knew something was different by the way he carried himself, even before seeing the change on his back.

Raziel kept his excitement to himself as he unfolded his wings before his sire. He expected him to be proud of him.

He was not.

The caress on his wings was painful, the membrane still too tender for touch, and the pain was all the more agonizing when Kain tore the bone right out of them.

The shock of Kain's anger was worse than the pain. He just barely registered the quiet gasps of surprise from his brothers before fainting; something he had never experienced in his life.

When he came to, Turel and Dumah had him by the arms, and were dragging him across a bridge that made his stomach sink as fear gripped his heart. His knees and feet banged painfully as they bounced across the uneven, creaking wood.

His vision blurred and his ears rang as he was brought to the edge of the cliff; the smell of water and the chill of the depths beneath it assaulting his senses.

For once, Kain's voice filled him with fear.

“Cast him in.”

Raziel screamed as he fell to the depths below, his ruined wings trailing behind him, and he hit the water hard.

It was an eternal agony. He could not tell up from down as his body was tossed effortlessly through the water. Time was lost to him as skin, flesh and bone dissolved into nothing; becoming one with the water. Pain should have been lost to him, thought should have been lost to him, in the thousand years he suffered, but it was if something was refusing him this small mercy.

And it was.

The searing pain stopped too abruptly, allowing an unnatural chill to settle into parts of his body that felt horrifyingly exposed as he floated gently to the stone floor beneath him. For just a moment, he felt soothed by coldness as the weightlessness left him.

He struggled to his feet before looking himself over, fearing what had become of him, and found that the damage had been so much worse than he could have ever imagined. He was nothing more than an emaciated corpse blessed with a few intact muscles, and he was surprised that his jaw had burned away; having sworn he had felt it filled with pain for as long as he could remember.

Raziel felt the shift of familiar cloth on his shoulder; the mark of his clan he had donned for ages. Its brilliant red had faded to a muddled, unremarkable brown that reminded him of wet soil from the grave.

It suited him.

He wrapped it around himself, hoping it would serve to help his flimsy neck support his deformed skull and hide the more revolting part of his body.

And to serve as a source of comfort.

“ **Raziel.** ”

The deep, booming voice startled him, and he looked around defensively as he searched for the source. Now no longer distracted with himself, he noticed giant, pulsing tendrils and grotesque eyes merged into lofty cave walls so seamlessly that he was having difficulty figuring out where they started and where they ended. It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

The next words spoken filled him with a bizarre mix of dread and anger.

**“You are worthy.”**

“What is this?” Raziel asked as he continued to spin, trying to get a grasp on the thing surrounding him. He caught sight of his arm in his peripheral and stopped to examine it further. “What is this abhorrent body I find myself in?”

He was an absolute disgrace, and he hadn't had enough time to digest his new form. He had gone from a glorious product of vampiric evolution to something that was too vulgar to house his noble soul.

“I deserve the mercy of death.” he proclaimed, unsure if he was speaking to the voice or himself.

**“Death is a mercy you will not receive, Raziel. I know you to have a greater purpose than oblivion. I have assured that you will fulfill it.”**

“I am destroyed.” Raziel said, too wrapped up in self pity to listen to the entity. 

**“You are reborn. Reborn to right the wrongs Kain had thrust upon the world.”**

“Kain...” Raziel said to himself slowly, a rush of emotions overcoming him. 

**“Kain's creation of you and your brothers has torn your souls from the wheel of fate; of life, death, and rebirth. They are an abomination, and must be destroyed.”**

The voice didn't have the courtesy to allow Raziel to mourn the loss of his life. He wondered what had become of his domain, left leaderless and soon to follow the path of his evolution. He wondered if he could ever accept the physical state Kain had left him in.

“I'd rather cease to exist than live this life I've been cursed with.” he said, completely crestfallen.

**“This is not your choice to make, Raziel. I have pulled you from the wheel to serve your purpose. Kill Kain; kill your brothers for the sake of the greater good.”**

The voice paused, allowing Raziel time to absorb its instructions. 

**“Redeem yourself. Or if you prefer...avenge yourself.”**

The words struck a chord in him, 

“Avenge...yes.” He said breathlessly to himself. The thought was overwhelming; his emotions for Kain, while just as intense, had shifted completely from one end to the other. The change from obsessive worship to blinding rage was dizzying.

But like always, Kain was in the forefront of his mind.

\--

Raziel had to pause upon seeing the state of his domain. Of his brood there was no sign, and his grand fortress and the land beneath it had been defiled; his banners shredded and his crest allowed to fade from memory. Killing his brother's fledglings, strangely evolved in ways he would never had imagined, was less of a shock than seeing the results of what Kain must have ordered to be done to Raziel's legacy.

Despite just having started his quest for revenge, Raziel allowed himself to mourn; ruminate in the silent safety in the room of the warp gate. So much had changed that the discovery of such strange magics turned out to be the least difficult thing to adjust to.

He leaned his back against the door and slid to the floor; his shredded wings bunching up behind his back.

It was odd, but this new, emaciated body was bringing a long lost memory to the surface.

It was coming in bits and pieces; shrivelled flesh clinging to dry bones, pain blooming through his body from his throat, and the jarring reanimation of his heart. He remembered ancient lungs sucking in air tinged with the taste of rain as his eyes settled on the instrument of his resurrection.

On Kain.

Despite having lost the thirst, he was filled with the craving of something thick, decadent and warm. His breath, likely taken out of habit than necessity, started to grow heavy as more sensations tried to find a place on his body. 

Warmth seeping into him from Kain's touch as he nestled against him. 

A pulsing on his lips as he placed them on Kain's neck, and the rush of life that flowed through him as he weakly pierced the skin to drink the blood within. Such an intimate, loving moment shared only between him and Kain, both of them wrapped up in Raziel's desperation.

Raziel was embarrassed with himself as he remembered the noises he made as he fed.

But it all made sense. His strength being greater than that of his brothers, his obsession with Kain so much stronger than theirs, and his disdain for the weak, diluted blood of humans.

He was ruined before he had taken his first steps out of the grave.

Why hadn't Kain continued to let Raziel feed off him? Why had he given Raziel so much attention, only to let it go to waste by tossing him into the abyss on a jealous whim?

Had Kain grown heartless over time, or was Raziel so smitten with him that his heartlessness had never been noticed?

The memories made the pain of Kain's betrayal near unbearable, leaving an ache in his heart so deep and painful that he wished he could forget them; even though, deep inside, he wanted to keep them nestled within forever.

After what seemed like too long, Raziel rose to his feet and headed to the pillars.

Be it through rage or destiny, Kain's life had to end. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was half a second away from making them fuck on the tomb floor. If this disappoints you, I'm sorry. 
> 
> I could maybe be persuaded to add the scene as its own chapter, but no promises.


End file.
